


A Hunger, Swayed

by Nightlessd



Category: Warm Bodies (2013), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Zombie Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightlessd/pseuds/Nightlessd
Summary: This fic was created for BNHA's Monster Ball - 31DoH (2020) as a treat for Chamibii.The hunger was always a kind of gnawing pain, somewhere near his chest, but not.
Relationships: Kaminari Denki/Shinsou Hitoshi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51
Collections: BNHA's Monster Ball





	A Hunger, Swayed

The hunger was always a kind of gnawing pain, somewhere near his chest, but not. 

Day in, day out, whether it was crunching fingerbones down as a snack, or sinking his whole face into a nice rib cage and ripping and chewing and filling himself with the viscera from another once- screaming meal, the hunger always lingered. Always came back- sometimes even while his stomach still bulged with the last meal.

Sometimes, when the sun was high, and hot, and cicadas screamed in the trees, he would stare towards the blue, blue sky and think-

Hunger isn’t supposed to be in the chest. 

  
The day the hunger changes starts like any other, with a party of the living- one too loud man in the front, several brightly colored punks- following directions as they ride roaring four wheelers towards the strip mall that he likes to haunt. The smash and grab tactic is common enough, and he prefers solitude. The masses will follow them, but they’ll be long gone, they think. The dark store is always a tempting target, for the living. 

The line of stores were like a salt lick, and masses of the hungry were always closer than the living were willing to accept. 

Hitoshi shuffles towards the manager’s office. It’s easier to tuck himself away, catch the one that sneaks off for money. 

Someone always sneaks off for money.

It isn’t even logical, money has no value (and thus his meal is a guilt free one). 

Because there is guilt. He remembers flashes of life, of a life before this, before the hunger. He remembers someone with tired, dark eyes telling him to run, lifting him up to hide, far above a milling crowd of the hungry. 

There are many blanks in his memory, but any time he has to feed, he feels the weight of those eyes and sometimes, sometimes it’s enough to push the hunger back another day, another week. 

Some of the other dead look at him oddly when he shuffles by, softer. Cleaner. Quieter than the other hungry, always apart. Always alone. 

He waits behind the door of the office, silent in a way no living being can be anymore and he hears… laughter? Quiet jeers and jokes. 

“Yeah, yeah Kacchan. Gonna see if there’s anything still good in here-” And they’ll open the door, see the safe, and let the door close. 

Every time. 

  
Except this one. 

A brightly smiling blond steps into the office, whistling softly as he looks around, and he bends down to look at- 

At his nook. A small pile of soft blankets under the desk, some brightly colored books, including one of pictures- a happy family. 

“Oh, man.” The blond’s fingers trail along, without quite touching, a splash of blood. “Sorry you didn’t make it, buddy. Lets see if you have any family in the compound, huh?” 

Delicate fingers scoop up the book of photographs, not the money. Not jewelry or the computer that sits dead on the desk and something cracks in his chest as the living man stands up and turns around. Meets his gaze and freezes. 

“Oh….fuck,” The blond whispers, and he tilts his head. 

“SHIT! We’ve got company! Sparks!” Yelling from the front of the shop, crashing glass. The low, groaning wheeze of the hungry- not quite a moan, not a scream. 

He’s between the living and his friends. 

One pale hand rises, a finger carefully presses against cracked lips. 

And for several seconds they stare at each other in flickering light and engines rev. The blond flinches, like he wants to bolt for the door and-

“We gotta go, go!” Desperation in the voices, another scream, more of the groans of the undead and crashing and the four wheelers thunder away and - the living swallows audibly over the noises from the shop. 

  
“Okay. Okay, alright, Denki. You can do this. You’ll be fine, it’s fine-” The living started mumbling to himself after the crashing and groaning in the shop stopped and he steps forward- likely the hungry haven’t left-  
Gold eyes widen for a moment-

A groan comes from just behind the closed door-

He turns back, deliberate, and shuffles into the hall. Meets the broken gaze of a one-eyed hungry and stands in front of the door until it shuffles off. Until they’ve all shuffled off and when he opens the office door the blond is hunched in on himself, breathing rapidly with hands over his mouth. Tiny little gasps escape, but the sound isn’t enough to draw attention back on them and he waits, watching. 

Step by careful step he shuffles forward, and gold eyes lift to meet his when he droops to crouch before the living, curious, concerned. It’s a conscious effort when he takes one of the delicate hands and presses it to his chest-

-and deliberately breathes in, slow and careful. Out. 

Penetrating purplish eyes keep locked on gold and the man’s breathing slowly calms, until the same bright eyes are searching his face, looking around the relatively neat office. They always come back to him. 

“...you, aren’t like-” 

He grunts out a wheezing, grating noise and shuffles forward, taking the living’s wrist and pulling him to the door in the back of the office, carefully lifting away the coat rack that had barred it before. 

“Wait, where are you taking me?” The blond hisses, thankfully quiet and he cuts a glare behind him. The service hall is empty, but sounds echo down it quite easily. The living pulse pounds under his fingers and after several tense moments, he’s opening a door to the employee parking lot. 

“Oh my gooood, dude-” The blond’s eyes widen and he almost bolts. Trips over his own feet as he stops and leans in and presses something warm and perfect and golden against his cheek before he’s bouncing down the stairs and inspecting the cars. 

“Hotwiring cars is like my specialty. You’re my hero!” 

The hunger in his chest cracks even further and Hitoshi- _Climb, Hitoshi, go_!- blinks tiredly. His ankle hurts. 

Hurts? Pain, _like the teeth sinking into his ankle when his leg slips on a ladder and_ -he hasn’t felt pain since that night but suddenly it hurts and he’s glancing down before there’s a roar of an engine and a whoop. 

Gold flashes and waves and the living man is waving from a yellow motorcycle, leaving Hitoshi there to sit slowly on the steps and stare after him. 

What… just happened? 

**Author's Note:**

> https://twitter.com/RozRoad/status/1311670328859463680
> 
> Roz made a beautiful art to collaborate with this, please go check it out!


End file.
